I snort. “And if not that, then itchy palms could be a sign of liver disease. Are you drinking water, Doctor Emeri, or vodka? Can you tell the difference?”
Number-Two quits rubbing his palms together and shoves his hands behind his back.
“I meant I was itching to come back to work, doofus!” Aubree bounds up from wherever she’s sitting—a kitchen stool, I think—and stalks across tile flooring, before the sound of ice cubes clattering into a glass gives her away. “Being off work is sending me insane. I caught the MV pile-up on the news and—karma forgive me—the idea I could get in on that excited me a little.”
“You’re sick.” I place Agosti’s heart with the rest of what I’ve taken, then I move to the long counter and select a syringe from the drawer beneath. “I’ve already received most of the bodies coming in from that accident, Doctor Emeri, and I’ve delegated them appropriately.”
“Yeah, but I?—”
“You’re not needed.” I tear the plastic packaging off the syringe and toss it into a separate bowl, then I stop beside my phone and smile.For who? Who knows. “I’m busy, Aubree, and you have a bathtub to fill.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Minka!”
“Byeeeee.” I end our call, then I wander toward Agosti’s top end, knowing I should have done this step first, and shrugging anyway. Not like Beavis and Butthead know any different. “I’m going to draw what is called vitreous humor from our John Doe’s eye.”
“You’ll—”
“The juicy, gel-type stuff that makes up about eighty percent of the fluid in our eyes. It’s a clear, thick liquid mostly made of water, hyaluronic acid, and collagen proteins.”
“His eyeball?” Number-Two’s voice trembles. “You’re going to?—”
I slide the needle straight into Agosti’s eye and pull the plunger.
Number-Two swallows, exhaling a heavy, shaky breath. “I-is that necessary?”
“It’s crucial, actually. We can’t take these fluids from a live patient—obviously, unless we want to blind them—but when a patient is deceased, it’s fair game. Better yet, it exists within its own insulated sack, which means it’s protected from the effects of decomposition. While the rest of the body starts to break down the moment our hearts stop beating, the vitreous humor provides insight and maintains integrity significantly longer than its counterparts. By collecting this fluid, we can ascertain things like glucose levels, urea nitrogen, ketones, creatinine, electrolytes, and more.” Finished, I slowly withdraw the needle. “Not only that, but testing vitreous humor means we can establish certain potential, but non-obvious conditions like diabetic ketoacidosis and hyponatremia.”
Cruelly taunting, I point the needle straight up and press the plunger, squirting a tiny amount of fluid into the air, before it falls back onto my gloved hand. “It’s a treasure trove of information.”
Gagging, Number-Two spins on his heels and almost tears the door clear off its hinges on his way to freedom.
“Guess he has a weak stomach, huh? What would Estefan think of that?”
“You’re trouble, Chief Mayet.” Number-One remains exactly where he is, his eyes aimed directly over top of my head and his jaw locked tight. “You think you can annoy us out of here?”
“No. But it’s a bit like sex, don’t you think?”
Curiosity gets the better of him, his gaze flickering to mine.
“Sex is, in the most technical sense, meant to be in the pursuit of making a child. I don’t want children, but I like having sex. Similarly, I don’t necessarily feel like I need to annoy you and your colleagues away.” I flash a teasing grin. “But it sure is fun trying.”
ARCHER
“So you mean to tell me you know who the fuck abducted these women, you know where he is, you know that he’s dead, but you haven’t done your fucking job and informed the authorities yet?” Drake slams his fist to the table, bouncing every pen a half inch off the surface. “You’re as crooked as your father, Malone! I was right about you all along.”
“Yeah? Well, I suppose crookedness is a matter of perspective, isn’t it? IassumeI know who these girls belong to, considering a certain presence in Copeland over the weekend. That person is now dead, which isprobablywhy the girls were abandoned. Did I know he’d swiped them? No. Or that he was moving them? Also no. Not until Fabian just told us. Is it possible this is a coincidence, and the girls have nothing to do with that other fucker? Absolutely. But I think we’re all grown enough to know the likelihood of that is low. Something about zebras and horses.”
Drake glares at me from his end of the table. His jaw flexing and his fists balling. His chest expands and shrinks with every breath he takes. Lifting and falling. “Anthony Agosti is dead. That’s what you’re telling me?”
“That’s what I heard. Though, full disclosure: I haven’t actually seen the body.”
“Who told you?” he snarls. “Who is your source?”
“Estefan Cordoza.” I hold his hard stare and lift a brow. “You remember him, right? From your days as a mafia guarddog.”
